THE WILD TUKKEY. 399 



vanquished. The usual fruits of such victories are reaped by the conqueror, who is 

 followed by one or more females, who roost near him, if not upon the same tree, until 

 they bctviu to lay, when their habits arc altered, in order to save their eggs, which the 

 male breaks if he can get at them. They are usually from nine to fifteen in number, 

 sometimes twenty, whitish and spotted with brown, like those of the domestic bird. The 

 nest consists of a few dry leaves placed on the ground, sometimes on a dry ridge, 

 sometimes in the faUeu top of a decayed leafy tree, under a ridge of shumach or briars, 

 or by the side of a log. 



Audubon gives us the following remarkable fact : " "W'hile at Henderson, on the Ohio, 

 I had, among many other wild birds, a tine male tm-key, which had been reared from 

 its earliest youth under my care, it having been cauglit by me when not more than two 

 or three days old. It became so tame that it would follow any person who called it, and 

 was the favourite of the little village. Yet it would never roost with the tame turkeys, 

 but regularly betook itself by night to the roof of the house, where it remained imtil 

 dawn. 



"When two j'^ears old it began to fly to the woods, where it remained for a con- 

 siderable part of the daj- ; to return to the inclosure as night approached. It continued 

 this practice until the following sj^ring, when I saw it several times fly from its roosting 

 place to the top of a high cotton-tree, on the banks of the Ohio, from which, after resting 

 a little, it would sail to the opposite shore, the river there being nearly half a mile M-ide, 

 and return towards night. 



" One morning I saw it fl}' off at' a very early hour to the woods, in another direction, 

 and took no particular notice of the circumstance. Several days elapsed, but the biid did 

 not return. I was going towards some lakes near Green River, to shoot, when, having 

 walked about five miles, I saw a fine large gobbler cross the path before me, moving 

 leisurely along. 



" Turkeys being then in prime condition for the table, I ordered my dog to chase it 

 and put it up. The animal went off with great rapidity, and as it approached the 

 turkey, I saw, with surprise, that the latter paid little attention. Juno was on the point 

 of seizing it, when she suddenly stopped, and turned her head towards me. I hastened to 

 them, but you may easily conceive my surprise when I saw my own favourite bird, and 

 discovered that it had recognised the dog, and woidd not fly from it ; although the sight 

 of a strange dog would have caused it to run off at once. 



" A friend of mine, happening to be in search of a woxm.ded deer, took the bird on his 

 saddle before him, and carried it home for me. The following spring it was accidentally 

 shot, having been taken for a wild bird, and brouglit to me on being recognised by the 

 red ribbon which it had around its neck. I'ray, reader, by what word wiU j'ou designate 

 the recognition, made by my favourite turkey, of a dog which had been long associated 

 with it in the yard and grounds ? AVas it the result of instinct, or of reason — an uncon- 

 sciously revived impression, or the act of an intelKgent mind ?" 



The weight of the wild turkey has often been exaggerated, but even now these birds 

 attain a great size. The average, according to Audubon, is from 151bs. to 181bs., but lie 

 mentions one in the market of Louisville, which weighed 3Glbs. and whose breast-tuft 

 was upwards of a foot in length. That eminent naturalist represents a cock turkey 

 which was four feet and an inch in length, and the expanse of the wings five feet eight 

 inches. C. Ij. Bonaparte, Prince of Musignano, says that birds of 301bs. weight are 

 not rare, and that he knew of some which weighed 401bs. 



Mr. Jesse heard, on what he regarded as good authority, that in the reign of George II., 

 a large flock of wild turkeys, consisting of not less than three thousand, was regidarly 

 kept up as part of the stock of Richmond Park. " In the autumn and winter," he says, 

 "they fed on acorns, of which they must have had an abundant supply, since the park 



